You Know I'm No Good
by Some Days Taste Like Lemonade
Summary: It's the year 2029. A lot has changed since Annabelle and Kelly left St. Trinian's. But now they're back... With their children in tow.


**Hey guys! This is my first venture into the St. Trinian's universe - well, writing anyway - so I apologise if it isn't quite right. I'm still trying to work out the mood of the piece. Please PM me with any suggestions and review if you want! Enjoy!**

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"Camilla Chelsea Fritton-Jones! If you don't get your backside into the car within the next ten minutes, we are leaving without you!" An irate Annabelle Fritton-Jones yelled from the foot of the massive mahogany staircase which was the centre piece of the foyer in her Berlin family home. The brunette ran her hands over the back of her neck exasperatedly. Today was stressful enough without her eldest daughter creating more problems. It was the day that the Fritton-Jones clan were moving back to the UK from their home of the past three years. Her wife had been offered the job of headmistress at St. Trinian's by her aunt Camilla, who was nearing seventy. Unable to refuse the old bird's offer, Kelly accepted immediately.

"Jesus, Mama! Take a chill pill, will you?! The flight doesn't board for another four hours. We've got plenty of time! Christ!" The equally annoyed voice of Camilla Fritton-Jones rang out in the empty foyer. Upstairs in her room, Camilla rolled her eyes at her mama's impatience. Camilla and Annabelle had always had an interesting relationship. There was no doubt their love for each other, but when Camilla hit a rebellious streak at the age of fifteen, things started to get rocky. First thing to go was her near perfect academic record. Then she started coming home late every night. Seven times out of ten she had some form of alcohol in her system, and occasionally, cannabis or cocaine. But what really got to her concerned mothers was the drastic change in attitude at home. Their once shy Camilla now frequently answered back to and often swore at Annabelle. Never Kelly, though. Despite what her test results said, Camilla wasn't stupid, nor did she have a death wish. Kelly was more of a disciplinarian than Annabelle; Camilla had been over her mum's knee enough times over the last two years to know as fact.

Shoving the last of her belongings into her suitcase and zipping it closed, the teenager took a moment to look at her surroundings. She was going to miss Berlin like crazy. The city was electric, there was always something going on. You just had to know where to look. And believe me; Camilla Fritton-Jones most definitely knew where to look. Fortunately for Camilla, it took a while for Annabelle and Kelly to figure out the city's underground hotspots, but they did eventually. Needless to say, the look on Kelly's face when she walked into the Barbie Deinhoff's to see her daughter throwing back straight vodka shots was one of pure fury. That was not a fun night for any of the Fritton-Joneses – not even for Alastair, Flash and Celia, Camilla's siblings who had been woken by the sound of their mum and their sister screaming at each other at four am.

"That's it! I'm sending your mum up to get you if you don't come down!" Camilla heard her mama threaten before she opened the door of her bedroom.

"Keep your hair on woman. I'm coming down just..." The brunette teen stopped as she met the angry eyes of her Mum.

"I wouldn't finish that sentence if I were you. You're in enough trouble as it is. I doubt you want to add to your punishment, hm?" Kelly was leaning against the banister of the staircase, her dangerous gaze wandering over her daughter's ensemble. Long gone were the days of cardigans, Hello Kitty or Disney princess t-shirts and skirts which actually reached Camilla's knees. In their place were short denim cut off shorts, midriff exposing tank tops and t-shirts and scandalously high heels. Kelly understood the need for self-expression; however she drew the line at indecent exposure. Camilla's fashion choices were often border line criminal. Today she had opted for a more modest choice of skin-tight skinny jeans, a sheer light blue blouse and a white blazer accompanied with white Jeffrey Campbell Lita heels.

"No." Camilla muttered averting her gaze downwards an inch or two.

"No, who, Camilla?" returned Kelly, not missing a beat.

"No, ma'am."

"Much better. You know, Camilla, once we get back to the UK both you and Celia will be attending St. Trinian's. You might want to watch your self-righteous attitude. The other girls won't like it." The woman pushed off the banister to move closer to Camilla, waiting to see if her daughter would challenge her.

"Like hell I will! You're the headmistress! You wouldn't let anything bad happen to me!" Camilla spouted out, looking outraged. Before Kelly could answer, the mother-daughter rally of words was interrupted by ten year old Flash.

"Mama says that if you two don't move, you'll both be walking to the airport." The boy squeaked, poking his head out between the banister's spindles.

"We know Flash. Be a good boy and tell her that we'll be there in two minutes, yeah?" Kelly smiled, ruffling her son's shaggy black hair. She then grabbed Camilla's suitcase and took it down the stairs, leaving the teen outside her bedroom door.

Camilla scoffed. St. Trinian's didn't scare her; it was them who should be scared of her!

Poor naïve, Camilla. She had no idea what was about to hit her.


End file.
